


Little Company

by megolas



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:33:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megolas/pseuds/megolas





	Little Company

Bag End was dark. Twilight had brought sparkling candlelight to the windows in all the other hobbit-holes, but none here. Rosie picked her way up the path, un-nerved by the shadowed windows but more so by the weed-strewn walkway. Her Sam wouldn't let the garden get this overgrown, not if all was well.

It took a moment, a moment of standing on the step and breathing slowly, before her hands stopped shaking. Then she knocked.

Silence, for long minutes, then the door swung soundlessly open. She blinked in surprise. Frodo had been ill for so long, pale and fragile in his pain, that she had half forgotten how he had looked when healthy. Now, with a warm blush to his cheek, and a gleam in his eye, his body not cramped with pain but relaxed (almost languid), he seemed new, like a stranger.

He smiled, and for a moment she forgot her doubts, for this was the smile of old. "Rosie, how nice to see you. Come in."

She halted her automatic forward motion, and reminded herself of her errand. "Good evening Mr Frodo, it's nice to see you as well. I can't stay, I just dropped by to talk to Sam."

"Sam? But he's not here." Mild confusion, and no hint of deception in his voice.

But she knew he lied.

"Begging your pardon Mr Frodo, but I'm pretty sure that he is."

Frodo just lifted one eyebrow in confusion.

"You see he told me three days ago that he would be coming over here. To see to setting up our quarters, for after the wedding, you understand."

Frodo nodded. "And he did, and then he went home."

She knew she should be polite, should take his answer at its face, turn and leave. But she couldn't. If getting to Sam meant being rude, then she'd be rude.

"No," she contradicted him quietly, "He didn't. He never left. I know because he didn't come back, and I talked to your neighbors. No one saw him come out the door." His eyes held her like shackles, but she didn't try to look away. "And for all that Mr Frodo, no one's seen you leave either."

He wasn't smiling anymore.

Her hands had started shaking again, she noticed almost idly. "He's still here. And I want to see him."

Frodo tilted his head to one side, his expression softening slightly.

"Well, perhaps that would be best, Rosie. He would miss you." He stepped back, into the gloom. "Come in." It was less of a polite invitation now, more of a command.

With a queer chill down her spine, like she'd glimpsed her final fate in those shining eyes of his, she stepped inside, and Frodo quietly closed the door.

The entrance hall was dark, the beams and coat rack throwing faint moonlit shadows against the wall. Rosie paused, attempting to adjust her eyes to the sudden darkness.

Turning, she faced Frodo and fixed him with what she hoped was a grave stare. "Where's my Sam?" Frodo chuckled softly and she shivered, there was something not quite right with that laugh. A cool hand brushed over her shoulder and settled gently at the base of her neck. "He's here. Follow me."

Rosie shook Frodo's hand away and gathered up her skirt. "Well, go on then. I don't have all the time in the world, you know." Frodo paused and in a soft voice said, "Yes. That's true." before leading the way down the main corridor of Bag End. Rosie followed apprehensively, noticing the way her skirt trailed through at least three days worth of dust.

Frodo's bedroom was lit only by one lone candle, burning dimly in the corner by the bed. The bed itself was occupied; Rosie could see the familiar shape of her Sam lying under the blankets. With a cry, she pushed past Frodo and knelt by the bed. Sam was cold to her touch and did not stir when she shook his shoulder and called his name.

Yanking the blanket back, Rosie bit down on a whimper as she noticed that he wasn't breathing. A darkening bruise caught her attention and she gently tipped his chin up, allowing the light from the candle to fall on the two holes that pierced Sam's neck.

With a gasp, she leapt to her feet, smacking right back into Frodo, who'd moved closer to the bed. Rosie let out a screech as Frodo's hands closed tightly around her arms. "What are you? What have you done to him?"

Frodo's fingers curled around her wrists, the pad of his index fingers tracing along the pulse. "What do you think I am? And I did nothing he didn't want."

"Is. Is he dead?"

"No. He'll wake up shortly." Frodo tugged her over to the bed and pulled her down next to him. "And you... you'll be the first thing he sees."

They sat on the bed together, watching the candle burn down. Rosie shivered, when she'd left to come over, she hadn't needed a coat, expecting to be back before dark but now she was sitting on the icy cold coverlet of Frodo's bed, in a hobbit hole that hadn't seen warmth for weeks with Frodo's thin, cool hands rubbing gently against her skin.

The bedclothes stirred and Rosie clenched her eyes shut. Frodo's hands ceased their rubbing and tightened around the soft flesh of her arms as Sam sat up. For a few moments the three hobbits were frozen in place until the candle spluttered out. Rosie tried willing her body to move, to get off the bed and run for the door but the slow ruthless pressure of Frodo's fingers against her skin every time she moved just brought tears to her eyes. A rough finger brushed gently across her cheek, catching the tears as they fell. She could barely stop herself nuzzling the calloused hand.

The pressure on her arms lifted and the bed dipped. Rosie could only just make out the shadowed form bent over the candle but the next thing she knew, the room was dimly lit again. Frodo returned to his place on her side, one hand snaking past her back to gently trace the line of her Sam's neck.

Her Sam. Oh.

He still looked like Sam but not. His skin was paler and his eyes had a sharper look to them, Rosie's eyes were drawn again to the purpling bruise that marred the sunkissed skin and she reached out, fingers jerking back when they touched cool skin that should have been warm with the sun.

"Oh Sam. What happened to you?"

Frodo spoke, causing Rosie to jump at the feel of his voice by her ear. "I did. Sam's been so good to me, ever since Gollum bit me. This is what he asked in return."

Rosie trembled. "Were you ever going to tell me, Samwise?"

"I wanted to show you, myself."

Frodo's hands busied themselves with unlacing the bodice of Rosie's dress and then Sam took over, pushing the sleeves down her arms before pulling her closer, head angled into the crook of her neck. Rosie was only barely aware of Frodo's hands running up and down her arm as she concentrated on the feel of Sam's mouth on her skin.

Frodo smiled, watching the pair beside him. Sam's mouth was resting just above the pulse in Rosie's neck, teeth just barely grazing the skin. Catching Sam's eyes, he held Rosie's right hand to his mouth and slowly licked a path to her wrist. Rosie whimpered and her arm jerked in his grasp as Sam pierced the smooth skin of her neck. With a muffled chuckle, Frodo slid his fangs into the delicate tracery of veins on her wrist.

Soon all that could be heard was the muffled suckling noises as Frodo and Sam applied themselves to their task. Rosie slumped backwards, supported only by Sam's body. With a final kiss to her neck, Sam pulled back, eyes fixed on the barely moving chest. Frodo caught his chin with one hand and kissed him gently. "Give me your hand." Sam complied, and Frodo placed a kiss on the fragile skin before sinking his teeth in, ripping the skin away. "Hold it to her mouth. Make sure she swallows."

Propping Rosie up in the crook of his arm, Sam held his bleeding wrist against her mouth. He yelped when Rosie's blunt teeth sank into the skin, holding it there as she suckled. With an effort, Sam wrenched his hand away from Rosie's mouth and watched her eyes flutter shut. She was completely still and silent; all signs of the life that once dwelled within her gone.

Frodo slung an arm around Sam's shoulders and kissed him. "It was meant to happen, you know that Sam. There is nothing that can keep us apart now."

Sam smiled, teeth glinting in the light of the candle and pulled the blankets up over Rosie's body. "Indeed, Mr Frodo. Indeed. We'll be happy here, I'm sure of that."


End file.
